Hell's Scars
by skywriter55
Summary: What if after New Moon, Edward returned to Bella, but she wasn't as whole as he'd thought? What if she found something different than Jacob to take her mind off of her agony? Bella fights to stop from slipping into the past, and Edward has to fight to keep her with him. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I'm back! Twilight is my second love (second only to J.R.R. Tolkien books) and so I am back writing. This idea just came to me, so I'm writing it. It'll probably be a shorter story, because it only centers around one topic, but I hate one-shots so I made it a story! Hope you like it.**

**WARNING** MATURE THEME—This story contains the topic of cutting. It has vivid images. If you are sensitive to this, I advise that you do not read this story.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I also don't own some of the dialogue in this story, the dialogue that was taken straight from the books. I'm just playing in the lovely world Stephanie Meyer created for us.

**Hell's Scars**

_Preface_

Not many people can say they were sentenced to Hell and came back alive.

I, myself, knew that I could say that statement and it would ring forever true.

It still made me hurt, made me bleed inside to think about my life without Edward. I did my best to keep it out of conscious thought and did a pretty good job. It was easier when Edward was with me during the day at school and I could see his perfect face; I could hear his voice and know that he was with me. I could know that I wasn't just having another hallucination.

But sometimes in the middle of the night my memories broke through the wall in my mind, and they broke me. I crumbled into nothing. The only thing tying me to earth was Edward's embrace, his cool arms around me, his whispered assurances that I would never be alone again, that he wouldn't leave me and that he loved me.

Tonight was one of those bad nights. It was cold and Charlie was working late. Worst of all, Edward was on one of his hunting trips; he had taken Alice and Jasper with him. There was nobody in my dark house, no angelic figure smiling at me and motioning for me to join him on the bed.

_Edward's golden eyes fixed on me, serious and anxious. "Bella, are you sure you'll be all right?"_

_I forced my lips into a sad, watery smile. "Of course I will be. Go hunt."_

_In all truth, I knew I wouldn't be okay. The thought of him leaving made me panic. And he was afraid that I was panicking. But ever since he'd come back from Italy, he'd never left me except for when his thirst got to emergency-proportions. As it was now, his eyes were blacker than night and the circles under them were darker than ever. _

_He placed his cold hands on the side of my face and forced me to look at him. "What can I do to make it easier?" His face was pained at my pain. He was tortured; he still blamed himself for the pain and horror I'd gone through in his absence. He was doing everything possible in his power to make it easier on me. _

_His earnest, loving words triggered my easily triggered tears. I just shook my head in answer to his question and threw my arms around his back, pressing his face into my stone chest. He sighed deeply and hugged me tight, rocking us slightly. He was murmuring into my hair. _

"_I'll be back soon, Bella, I swear." His devotion could not be questioned, but fear still hummed in my heart._

"_When?" My voice cracked on the pathetic sob._

_He kissed my forehead, always gentle, always loving. "As soon as possible. Alice sees me meeting you at school tomorrow." _

_But even as he spoke and calmed me down, so selflessly, I could feel that his chest was completely still, for the raging thirst in him was so harsh that he couldn't breathe around me. Even though I caused him such agony, he still stayed, still put himself through that to help me in whatever way he could._

I found myself rocking on my bedcovers, gripping my hair while my eyes stayed wide open, frozen on the window. I knew I was being ridiculous and stupid, but I really couldn't help it. Panic was welling up and filling me to the brim.

Oh, God. Not again, not anymore. No, no, no.

A crazy half-sob half-moan burst from my lips, echoing terrifyingly in the dark of my room. He wouldn't come back. Why would he want to come back to someone who made his thirst worse than any in the world? Who was a broken mess?

_Stupid girl. You're nothing._

When he had left the first time, I had always wondered if he scorned the stupid human who had dared to love something so much more than her. If he had seen the shattered pieces of Bella Swan on the forest floor and laughed in amusement; if he had picked up the biggest piece to put in his pocket for a reminder of that stupid, stupid girl. Not because he was mean-spirited, or a monster, of course, but because I was worth less than nothing.

I needed him. I loved him.

Oh, God. Fear was breaking goose bumps all over my skin and fisting my hands in my hair to the point of harsh physical pain. I was actually pulling out my hair, but the demon inside me was cackling evilly and setting fire. I couldn't let this happen again; the pain, the horror, the breakdowns. My body was tearing from the inside out, like I was ripping in half. Oh God. My harsh breathing was loud in the quiet house.

_I love you, Edward. I love you. Where are you? I love you. Please don't leave me. I'm sorry for whatever I did._

I couldn't handle this. Without Edward's strong arms to hold me together, I was falling apart from the inside out. My heart was dying, and then the rest of my body, slowly, slowly, until I just went into autopilot. I knew the familiar tears were running down my face, and that huge hole in my chest was burning my torso and sending wracking waves of hurt throughout my limbs and head. Autopilot picked my body up, stumbled into the bathroom, locked the door, and turned the shower on full blast. I found my hand reaching into the cupboard and pulling out my lifesaver.

I climbed into the shower-tub without undressing. Technically, the water should be scalding my skin, but I felt nothing on the outside.

_Bleeding. He's gone. He's gone….._

I yanked back my sleeve and revealed the myriad of patterns across my left arm, raised from my skin and taunting me. Calling me names, every name under the sun: disgusting. Horrible. Messed-up. Disgusting. Ugly. Worthless.

Nothing.

For a millisecond, the screaming in my head stopped and the haze cleared from my vision. What was I doing? This would not resolve anything. I almost got up to struggle back to the sink and hide the razorblade in its hiding place when my eyes dragged down to my arm.

The scars were white, and not as warm as my skin, almost like Edward's skin-

_Edward. Went to hunt. He said he would be back. But why would he come back for me? Worthless, broken, no good-_

"_You're not good for me, Bella."_

A sharp pain through my body jolted me from the blackness. Suddenly, the water swirling down the drain was red from the deep cut now in my arm. I wanted to cry out. It hurt badly. The silver of the blade taken from Charlie's razor glinted in the light overhead, flaunting its ability to do damage. I watched as my hand descended, almost as if from a dream, and the silver metal entered my body, slashing holes, letting my life drain away. I wanted desperately to stop.

But in this pain, I found that it distracted me from my agony inside. So I kept going; I didn't make any of the other cuts deep, so they were just scratches across my skin, but since they were over my previous wounds, it elicited even more pain. I was crying and sobbing and waiting for this hell to end. I knew it had to but it didn't; the night raged on, the shower turned cold and the water was red, always red, staining the floor of the tub with its color, the color of life; Edward had left because of this blood. This blood was both the lure and the curse. I hated it. This blood had broken my party and driven my family, my love, away from me, to leave me an ugly shell.

Eventually, my raging emotions slowed to a boil and I could stop hyperventilating. Once I did that it was much easier for me to be safe to myself, and I knew it. But I hadn't quite figured out the switch to turn it off at my wish. The only thing I could to was let it run its course and hope that once the haze cleared, I wasn't too much worse for the wear. That had never been the case. I was always torn open and much, much uglier than before.

When I finally gathered myself enough to stand up and drag myself to the little closet where Charlie kept the bandages, I wrapped my wrist while tears still flowed down my face. I was horribly disgusting. This habit had me so ensnared that even though I wanted to break it more than anything, I could do absolutely nothing; it was a part of me now and I didn't know how to rid myself of it.

Just as I was packing the almost-empty bacitracin back in the bin, I remembered something that had me sprinting back to my room in a frenzy. I remembered that Edward had left his shirt for this purpose, guilty and sad about how hard it was for me when he left.

My drawers were emptied on the floor before I found it, soft and weathered and, per my request, unwashed so that it held his scent. I breathed it in like it was the last thing I would ever do. Slowly I calmed, breathing in his scent.

My mind reasoned that he would come back, for his shirt if nothing. That knowledge rebooted my entire body so that I now felt everything I'd failed to feel in the past

Slowly, methodically, I slid his shirt on and found an old pair of flannels. When I put hit shirt on, it pressed my soaking hair down to the skin of my back and I suddenly jumped, startled. The shocking cold suddenly snapped something into me, equally as strong as the emotion that had forced the blade to my wrist for the forty-second time in the past six months.

Edward had promised. He wouldn't leave, and he had never planned to. I had just acted so irrationally that my head spun and I fell to my knees, shocked and horrified.

What would he do if he saw my arm? He would know, realize how broken I was, how unworthy of his beautiful soul and godly spirit I was, and in his disgust he would leave for good.

Frantically, I scrambled through the contents of my drawers again, looking for my myriad of shirts that had the hole for my thumb, and would securely hide my shame without fear of being revealed. When I finally found one, I threw Edward's shirt off, took the long-sleeve, and pulled it on so roughly that I felt like I pulled my shoulder. My entire body hurt, like it always did. My eyes burned, my head was pounding, the hole in my chest was throbbing, and my arm was on fire.

I crawled back into bed, crying again, and wrapped my arms in the worn shirt that belonged to the love of my existence. He would be here in the morning, he had promised. I glanced to my clock. It was 11:47. Only a few more hours. Only a few hours. That was it. But I knew that my emotions right now would not allow me to relax until then. I reached for my bottle of nighttime cold meds that I used religiously—unsafely – so that I could sleep. I shook three dark green pills out and swallowed them with the stagnant water sitting in the glass on my table. Once the large pills had made it past the tear-induced lump filling my throat, I slumped back onto my bed and curled my entire body around the shirt.

"I love you, Edward. I'm so sorry," I whispered with a sob.

Edward had swooped in and saved me from Hell. But nobody can come back without scars, external or internal.

**AN: Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think! Reviews are always love. Always.**

**To be updated in… Meh. I really don't know. I now have three stories in progress and I am very extremely beyond busy right now. No matter how long it takes, I will update! Don't lose faith. -skywriter**


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Alright, there's not any more explicit stuff in this chapter. That first one was rough. But it's not easy going from now on! Don't be lulled into false security. This is an angsty story, absolutely, but it's also the love story between Bella and Edward.

Something that's important for you to catch is that Bella's emotions are intense and very unreliable, something common with someone who does this.

Thank you for reading! I love reviews, favorites, and follows.

***Even though there's no explicit content of cutting in this chapter, if you're sensitive to the topic, I suggest not reading. I don't mean to be insensitive, because I'm far from it, but you must know that it's important that the story is authentic. _However, _there is an explicit lead-up to it.***

**Disclaimer: **Twilight and anything affiliated with it don't belong to me. This story is not an attempt to steal or copyright anything. All rights to Stephanie Meyer and whoever else the rights legally belong to. I'm just playing in this lovely, lovely world.

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THIS CHAPTER: Bella decides that she doesn't want to do what she's doing anymore and she decides to tell Edward. However, the chapter ends just as she's about to tell him.

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**Chapter Two: Ready to Choose**

I jerked awake, heart pounding and head spinning. For a minute I was truly confused and I attempted to get a grip on my surroundings. The forest, dark and menacing, was encroaching on me; I was lying in the dirt outside, on the path from my house. If I got up, I guessed that I might be able to find my way home, but my body refused to respond to my mind.

'Why am I on the ground? How did I get out here?' My muddled thoughts knocked on the inside of my head, cranking up my headache from a dull four to a raging eight.

"Ah, jeez," I mumbled. No doubt more Tylenol was in my future, and this time it would be for true purposes.

A soft, calm voice echoed around me, making me jump and scream. I tried futilely to clutch the ground, to find something to hang onto, but found no purchase.

"You're not good for me."

It was the voice that I desperately needed to hear. But those words tore into my very being and started to bleed. I managed to raise my head off of the cold dirt and looked around, searching for my personal angel. No. This couldn't happen, not again. I had to be able to do something.

"Edward?" My voice had the same echoing quality, yet it was weaker and exponentially less beautiful. It was wavering and needy; weak and ugly.

A flash of white drew my eyes off to the left, into the deepest part of the black. "I don't want you."

My heart shuddered in the horror of the words. "Edward, please," I begged, feeling tears dew up in the corners of my eyes. "Where are you?"

The scene changed from confused nightmare into horror movie. My soft lullaby picked up and played eerily, narrating my brokenness. The familiar notes seeped into me, adding fuel to the painful fire. This time, when I tried to get up, my legs obeyed and I swayed on legs like a newborn animal. I focused on where the flash of white had gone by, and, determined, forced myself forward to find him.

"Edward-" That was all I got out before he cut me off.

"I lied. I had to lie. And you believed me so easily," he chuckled harshly from my right. I tried to block out the words and turned my direction around. "You're nothing."

No. No. No! How was this happening again? I'd been so good since he'd been back, trying so hard not to be ugly and needy and human, trying desperately to be enough for him even though it was impossible. But I'd tried to be at least less annoying and insufferable.

At this my tears broke free. "But you said you'd be back!" Again, my voice sounded hopeless and weak: exactly and perfectly undeserving of him. "You said that you loved me."

He laughed but then cut off abruptly, causing my feet to hesitate before moving again. The black forest, instead of standing still, seemed to be coalescing into me. A sense of cold dread filled me, slowly, painfully, the suspense making my stomach twist and turn. "I'm tired of this." His voice had turned bored. He should be bored. I wasn't interesting, I wasn't special, and I wasn't even remotely beautiful. I had the feeling that I was falling over a cliff and everything I knew was waving goodbye with smiles.

I whispered, "You can't leave," but even as I said it, I felt that his presence was gone from the forest, and I was all alone with my melody still playing away. My body felt like it was plunging through inevitable, inescapable darkness, damning me.

No matter where I turned, there was nothing but black. I felt like I'd been battered in an ocean only to be thrown into a pit of sharp rocks. Still, I kept moving, for if I stopped I knew that it meant that I had failed and that my life (pathetic, weak though it was) was over. If I stopped, it was over. The terror of my dream ricocheted around in my head to add to the noise of the soft piano, beautiful but taunting. The cacophony was echoing, deafening me from all perspectives. The hole in my chest was not only in my chest, but it was my entire _being_. I was an empty hole of pain, lost without a place to orbit, lost without a purpose, broken. Only from the hoarseness in my throat could I tell that I was screaming, "Come back! Come back! Come-"

"Bella!"

With another shocked scream, I jolted up out of my bed- straight into Charlie. My head snapped forward and connected with his face, only adding to the all-around pain I was feeling throughout my body.

He jerked away from me, cradling his nose. "Jeez, Bells!"

"I'm sorry, Char- Dad!" I went to apologize, arm outstretched, but the pull on my new cuts made me bite my lip to stop from screaming.

He looked at me over his fingers. "Another rough one, huh?"

His words, so much like when Edward comforted me, made me want to cry. The only thing I could do from bawling like a child was to nod and avert my eyes from his earnest face. But doing so only let me catch a view of the world outside of my window- it had snowed a considerable amount overnight. That wasn't helping my anguish.

Charlie kept looking at me. "You look like hell."

I could tell that it was partly joking, trying to pull me out of my sorrow, but I knew that he was right. I _felt _like hell.

"Thanks," I said back half-jokingly, exhausted. I offered him a smile that fell flat, but honestly, what was I supposed to feel right now? My arm hurt, my head spun, my heart was in pieces, and all I wanted to do was curl back up in my bed and shut out life.

Was this what depression felt like?

He kept examining me. Something softened in his gaze, something I hadn't seen before. In my zombie months, he'd used more of an iron hand with making me go to school, maybe hoping that I'd snap out of it. I hadn't missed one day of school, one assignment, or gotten lower than a low A on tests. Even though I'd been lifeless, I was faultless. But today he could tell that this wasn't the same state. Whatever his detriments as a parent were in relation to my detriments as a child, he felt my need now.

He said, somewhat awkwardly, "Why don't you stay home today."

I looked up at him, shocked. "Really?" I hadn't been expecting any sympathy. Charlie wasn't mean or rude, but he hadn't known how to handle my emotions or his and his reaction had always been to just do the normal routine.

Charlie kept looking more and more uncomfortable, probably because I was looking at him like he'd given me everything I wanted in the world. "You seem like you need a day to recover."

"I do."

"Do you need me to stay here with you?"

I shook my head, feeling a little nervous. "No. But thank you, Dad, really." If he were to stay, that would be a catastrophe. Absolutely no one knew about what I did, and I intended for it to stay that way. If he found out… I didn't care to wonder. I hadn't ever seen my father angry, but he was a cop. Surely he had a temper. And if the Cullens knew… I blanched inside. Oh God.

That was something I'd always been terrified about: the fact that at any moment, Alice would see it in the future, that I'd cut, or that Edward would enter my house, or that Jasper would feel my burning, drowning depression and know. Or that I'd have to go to the doctor and Carlisle or another doctor would discover my arm…

I fought to keep the terror off my face as Charlie straightened up and headed for the door. "There's still some waffles from breakfast if you want to eat." I hadn't noticed, but he was dressed in full uniform. I must have been keeping him late.

I said incredulously, "You made breakfast?"

He looked back at me sheepishly. Busted. "They're the type of waffles you just throw in the toaster," Charlie admitted. "And that crappy syrup in the plastic bottle."

I offered him a real grin this time. Real, but small. "Glad you found a type of food that you can make without burning the house down.

After giving me one of his disparaging looks, he nodded towards the medicine on my table, assuming it was because I was sick, and shut my door. A chill ran through me. If he ever knew that I used cold medicine in an unhealthy way, he would flip out. So I waited a few moments to hear his car hum to a start and pull away before I sat up, threw my legs over the side of the bed, and hung my head in both hands. One tear dripped down my face and I saw it land on the floor with a soft splash. Now was the time when I had to do what I hated: checking and treating my cuts.

I dragged myself unhappily to the closet and decided to take the entire medicine bucket into the bathroom with me. Even though Charlie had departed, I knew that at least one of the Cullens would be here in about an hour when I didn't show up to school. That's why I had to hurry the process up. I turned around and locked the wooden door, shoving the laundry basket in front of it for good measure. Useless measure, but it made me feel juvenilely safer.

With hesitation, I unwound the red-stained gauze from my arm and examined it. Last night's breakdown, emotional scarring flooding from me aside, had left one of the lighter physical effects. Only one of the cuts was bad and there were only three or four that were worse than a mild scratch. I sighed happily and changed the bandages. My secret ploy ever since Edward had been back had been to put the dirty gauze either outside in the far dumpster or to throw them in the fireplace and light them, for the Cullens would surely smell the blood and want to know what it was from.

The sight of my arm made me pause for a moment. There were all the short, harsh scars going across the length of my arm, but there was still that same one from my eighteenth birthday party that twisted my stomach on sight. It was ugly-looking, yet it wasn't as bad as the other ones that overlapped it. I felt my face crumple as I looked and looked and looked. I just wanted it to end. I just wanted it to be finished, for me to be okay again. Even though Edward was back, I still felt the undeniable pull, the sick urge to do this.

And the longer white scar had started it all. I remembered with clarity the first time I had ever taken the razorblade with me into the shower. That memory was burned into the darkest corner of my mind and haunted my nightmares with the same horror that had permeated me last night.

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_**Flashback**_

I sat, wrapped in my chair, hands clenching the armrests, staring at the computer screen, desperate. My lines, my walls were cracking.

I was staring at the screen of my email, with all of the messages I'd sent to Alice. There were quite a few. But each one was accompanied with a message: _message returned to sender. Message delivery failure. _She really was gone. I understood that _he _would want to leave, because who would want to have to pretend that they loved me? However, I'd thought that Alice had at least been a friend of mine. But no. I ruined everything I touched, and everything I touched ran away from me.

The pain leaked from my eyes I the form of tears.I'd been able to keep my numbness for so long. Ever since that night at the cinema with Jessica, there had been nothing to stop the pain I'd felt that first day from coming back tenfold this time. Tenfold.

Tenfold was the pain that had nearly killed me the first time. That had made me want to stop living at that very second, because there wasn't anything for me to live for anymore. I wasn't even myself anymore. The girl who was Bella Swan had been shattered that day in the forest and she couldn't be put back together. All the king's horses and all the king's men… The only thing that could put me back together was Edward—

I screamed loudly, hands on the side of my head, eyes frozen forced wide, feeling the torture stabbing sharply through every single cell that was inside my body. I'd known that my lines were blurring. I'd let myself think his name. _He _wasn't coming back. _He _didn't love me. I didn't deserve _him_.

It was a little while later that I found myself in the shower, with fog in the air, swirling around, making me feel like I was on drugs. I didn't know why I was in here; the water was roasting me alive and I was still wearing my uniform of too-big jeans and sweatshirt. Maybe I was hoping that I would pass out. Or maybe Charlie's whispered conversations with Dr. Gerandy had been right and I was just hopeless and wanted to die.

But the pain was coalescing. It was a force in my chest that made it hard to breathe, that felt like it was breaking my sternum, my ribs, shattering them, forcing the broken shards into my flesh, bleeding me out for the entire world to see. This was my doing, though, because I was the ugly and stupid girl who'd dared to fall for someone so much above her.

I was all alone in my agony and my blame. There was no one who shared this with me in the entire world, especially not _him._ He was happy, off enjoying his distractions, probably with the girl who was worthy, the beautiful vampire Tanya—

Another one of my blood-curdling screams echoed off of the walls of the shower, echoing my pain and embodying it in sound. Desperate to escape the agony, I slammed my fist down on the white ceramic of the tub and felt nothing as a crunch emanated from my fourth finger. There had to be something to do. I was afraid that I would be destroyed by this. My being was being beaten, murdered, and would disappear into a void if I didn't do something.

My desperately flickering eyes, flooded with tears, caught something catching the light of the overhead lightbulb. It was Charlie's razor.

Before I could stop the vile idea, it took form, coalescing, and my fingers were bloody from wrestling one of the razorblades out. I saw it descend, lower, lower…

_**End of Flashback**_

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After I wrapped my arm again, this time with extra bacitracin, I decided to light the bloody gauze on fire to ensure that no sensitive vampires would pick up the scent. After watching the embers die and then throwing alcohol and lighting them again for good measure, I shuffled into the kitchen to see if anything tempted my appetite. Lately, and for the past six months, I had to basically be force-fed, because every type of food was gross to me.

The fridge held nothing of interest, and the freezer as well. I rooted around in the cupboard, desperate to want to eat something, when I came across a box of macaroni and cheese. Surely this would taste good- it was something I'd eaten as a child when I was sick or upset. Hopefully it'd have the same effect now. In robotic fashion, I unearthed a pot, filled it with water, and set it upon the stove to boil.

But this had been a mistake. Anything that required waiting time left too much open area for my twisted mind to think. If I waited around, anything could happen. And now with nothing to do, I felt the hole in my chest aching, pulsing, demanding my attention. I threw the pasta in the water and whirled around, panicking slightly. What was I supposed to do? And why weren't any of the Cullens here yet?

My feet carried me to the TV and I found myself flicking through the channels in a hyperactive way. Strangely, it calmed me down instead of riling me up further. As though it could protect me, I wrapped a blanket around myself and sat in the corner of the couch. I settled on a movie with a strange animatronic creature fighting with two hairy-footed men and curled up and waited. I lost myself, thankfully, in the dialogue and the weird raspy voice of the animated character. This looked like a movie Charlie would enjoy. I picked up the remote and checked the guide, noting to myself that the movie was called _The Lord of the Rings._

It occurred to me that I should probably stir the pasta so it wouldn't burn. As I was looking for a wooden spoon, I happened across a big bar wrapped in foil. Curious, I opened it to find a huge block of chocolate that looked to have almonds in it.

Before I was aware of what happened, I'd eaten almost half of it. My raw stomach felt soothed and I smiled the tiniest smile, relaxed. I hadn't ever understood girls who ate their feelings before, because food never held much of an appeal. But if they felt like this all the time, then yes, it made absolute sense.

The doorbell rang shrilly, twice in succession. I sighed and carried my blanket with me to the door, a little embarrassed by what I was wearing: black leggings and the same waffle shirt with Edward's shirt over it from last night. Hopefully it wasn't anyone who would care that a dead-faced, homeless-looking girl was answering the door.

But just before I reached the door, the handle turned and it swung open. Apparently Charlie hadn't thought to lock it behind him when he left; not that he'd done so since my mother lived here. However, now I was wishing that he had. For a moment my heart was exploding in fear- what if it was a murderer or a rapist?- but as soon as I saw the white hand, there was no more fear. In fact, there was overwhelming relief.

"Edward!" I all but threw myself at him and wrapped my arms around him, blanket and all. His body was absolutely freezing, and the snow outside, no doubt, didn't help that.

The door was shut in the instant; he sensed my chill and was unwilling to touch me until I was warm. I found myself wrapped in the blanket I was towing with me and another thick afghan before he embraced me, his cold lips on my hair. But I didn't like this. I had to have my arms out so that I could have a hold on him. Even though having my arms would do nothing if he wanted to get away, it made me feel safer. I wriggled my torso free, ignoring his noise of protest, and resumed holding him.

He picked me up, still holding me tightly, and walked me over to the couch so that I could curl up in the cushions. When I pulled back, like usual, my heart gave a stuttering dance. He was perfection embodied with his strong jaw, pale skin, burning now-golden eyes, and intense look of care. But even more, I knew that when I looked into his eyes, I saw the purest, kindest soul to ever walk the earth. He wasn't the monster he often thought himself to be. And the knowledge that I was in the hands of an angel automatically brought a smile to my face.

There was a small curling-up of his lips that softened his eyes. But then he dropped his eyes to my torso and his smile slid.

"Did you have a hard night?" he asked, tugging lightly on the shirt I wore. He knew that I hugged his shirt and cried desperately when he was gone.

I bit my lip and shrugged.

But he waited.

"No more than usual," I responded truthfully, but then I wished I hadn't when his face fell into a mask of anguish and pain.

I hurried to correct the mistake. "The important thing is that you're back now." He just shut his eyes and pulled me closer, tucking his head under my chin and rocking us slowly back and forth.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered in my hair. Edward froze and seemed to sense something. His cool fingers swept across my hair and then my forehead. "You're burning up, Bella."

"I know. I feel like crap." I didn't mean to whine, but it was true. My entire body hurt. But thankfully, my burning arm was being soothed by his cool body, and I tried to gain some of the chill without being too obvious about it. Another very sudden wave of anguish washed over me when I realized that I wanted to be able to seek help without hiding my shame. I wanted to ask for help but I was scared. Nothing good could come of it… Not that staying silent was doing any good either.

A soft chuckle vibrated through his chest and rumbled out of his mouth in the most attractive laugh I'd ever heard. "My poor girl."

For a few moments, we sat like that, rocking, until Edward caught sight of what was on the TV. He assessed it for a moment before a smile slowly spread across his face, causing my heart to stop again. How could this god-like creature possibly love me?

The question made the dangerous part of my mind rear its ugly head, so I just tried to focus on the present, desperate.

"Lord of the Rings?" His attractive laugh filled the room. I loved to see him happy, and I was relieved beyond measure that he'd fed so that he could stand to be around me again. But he was making fun of me. "I didn't know you were into this stuff, Bella."

I shrugged shyly, fumbling for the clicker so that I could change the channel. "I just saw it and thought Charlie might like it—"

Edward placed a hand over mine, stilling my insane blabber. "I love your blush," he said, staring at my red face, which of course only made my face flush even harder. He smiled and leaned in to kiss my cheek gently. I hadn't realized that I'd been holding my breath. He'd seen that I'd needed him to give me something, prove even in the smallest way that he was really, truly here with me, and that I could relax.

But he slid the remote from under my always slightly-shaking fingers. "Would you mind if we left it on? I love these movies." His eyes slid over for a moment to the TV, where the animated character was now crawling around on rocks, being dragged around on a rope by a sandy-haired man. The poor gangly thing looked like he was getting quite the beating from smashing into the sharp boulders.

Unfortunately, I could relate to it.

I leaned back away from him, mock-bewildered. "I never would have guessed it. Edward Cullen, you're a Middle-Earth fan." I giggled as he growled playfully at me.

"Are you teasing me, Bella?" His golden eyes sparkled with laughter. His fingers were suddenly drifting over my ribs, tickling mercilessly. I squealed and tried to escape, but of course I couldn't. He only relented when I had dissolved into a giggling, incoherent mess. Then he pulled me closer, nuzzling my hair and laughing with me.

As he did so, I felt that he was breathing in, smelling my scent. I couldn't even begin to fathom the Herculean effort behind this simple gesture. He'd once said he was appreciating but resisting. And I knew that it hurt him, hurt badly, to do this, but he still did it, because that was just who Edward was. Nobody in nature could compare, and no one could ever possibly deserve him less.

"Shoot!" I cried, jumping up as something struck me. "My pasta." Edward followed me cautiously as I jerked the pot off of the burner and dumped the burned noodles in the sink. But as the water splashed back up, it managed to soak through my shirt and the thick bandages covering my arm. I screamed when the boiling water met the rawness of my cuts.

I cradled the arm against my stomach, gasping from the pain. It hurt so badly.

"Bella!" Edward's voice rose sharply in alarm. He reached for my arm, spinning me around so that I was facing him, and he started to push my sleeve up so that he could assess the damage.

That caused in me a deep-buried instinct that made me reconsider a lot of this: fight or flight. Should I make him stop? Or should I end this terror and horror movie that was my life so that Edward could help me out?

The situation before me was like fighting with my inner devil and angel. In that one second, I saw the choices before me, plain as day but impossible to choose. On the side of the angel, there was a faceless figure in white, beckoning me to the tempting place of telling Edward, allowing him to heal me and make this end. But to do that, it was terrifyingly scary. I knew the end of the tunnel would be much better, undeniably better in the long run, but I really didn't know if I could take the first plunge. Could I do it? Could I swallow my pride and fear to save my pathetic life?

The other side would technically be easier. It was bathed in red, and a red-cloaked figure laughed and extended a hand. That was easier for me to just continue on the path I was on now. But I would fall further and further into the black. There would be no escape from this Hell I lived. There would be no end, no stoppage, nothing. And if anyone could help me, I know it was Edward and the rest of the Cullens.

It was the burning determination in Edward's beautiful topaz eyes that helped me choose. He was utterly intent on helping me. And if someone as amazing as him would want, let alone have the intense determination, to help me, then I should be able to help myself.

I pleaded, "Wait." His hand stilled and he gazed at me questioningly.

"I can help, Bella." He really did want to help. He felt that he needed to help me. It was a long-buried human male instinct that I felt radiating through him. I was his. And for months, he hadn't protected what was his. He had broken what was his. And now he felt that it was his absolute duty to heal me, to love me extra, to never, ever hurt me again.

Yet this time I had to help myself if his help was ever going to do me any good.

"No." I pulled away but squeezed his fingers. "I can help myself this time." And I believed that.

Hopefully.

"Wait for me here?"

He nodded, looking at me like I was crazy, but he let me go past him and run up the stairs. When I got there, I changed out of the shirts and put on a different long sleeve. I released my long hair from its braid and let my long waves flow down my back. I took a deep breath, trying to stop my racing heart, not that it would do any good. He could probably hear it from downstairs.

Lastly, I reached inside my bedside table and pulled out a well-worn piece of paper that I'd written my plan on. It had bullet points on how to possibly tell Edward what I'd done. But then to reassure myself, I'd written in thick black Sharpie, "Edward loves you. He'll take care of you."

I just had to believe that. I had to believe in myself and him so that I could get better.

Just like usual, I felt panic well in my throat, threatening to overtake me. I hunched over and breathed soothing fire-breaths, like Renee had taught me when she'd pursued yoga for a brief while. I had to calm down and make this better. Calm.

Calm.

I just had to remember that I wouldn't side with the devil. I would go to the angel.

With one last glance at my paper, I felt soothed by the last line.

"He'll take care of you," I muttered to myself.

I thumped back down the stairs on unsteady legs. He was waiting anxiously, probably freaked out by my insane behavior. But he smiled when he saw that I was alright, and not a crying, pathetic mess.

"Can we go to the meadow?" I asked shakily. The idea had just come to me so I blurted it out hurriedly. That was where I wanted this to happen. He was calm at the meadow; he loved the meadow. So that was where I would do this.

He answered, bewildered again, "Of course. Now?"

"Now."

He didn't ask, just slung me over his back gently and rushed out of the house, stopping only to close the door behind us. I watched the green forests of Forks blur by as he raced to our safe haven, our secret place. The fact that he sensed my need and just went with it made a fresh rush of love flow through my veins. I turned my head and kissed him on the side of his jaw. Against my skin I felt a smile curve up the corners of his lips.

His smile made me smile too.

"I love you, Bella," he said softly over the wind whistling in my ears.

My smile grew, full of happiness and love.

"I love you too, Edward."

He continued, "But you're scaring me. Are you alright?"

I rested my chin on his shoulder and shook out my head once to clear it. "I will be soon."

He again didn't press the situation. In a matter of a few more minutes, we'd reached the meadow. He removed me from his back and cradled me gently before placing me on the springy ferns. He then proceeded to fold himself gracefully on the ground in front of me, and reached out to hold my left hand. I'd need that hand to do what I needed to do, but for now, I'd let him hold it.

My stomach trembled nervously like I wanted to throw up.

No.

Be strong.

He'll take care of you.

"Edward," I started. My voice cracked and broke, so I cleared my throat to try again. "Edward."

"Bella?" His eyes were worried.

I took a deep breath and fixed my unseeing eyes on the ground between us. "You promise to listen to me?" The grass fluttered, waving lightly in the breeze.

"Always."

"And do you promise to wait until I'm done before you start?" Please.

"Of course."

M voice was noticeably smaller when I spoke again. "And you promise not to leave again?" God, please.

Edward's tone was disapproving when he pulled my chin back up. "Bella." He was reprimanding me now, hurt and glorious. "Of course I won't. I'm here, and I love you."

"Okay," I said, my stomach aching and twisting even more. I tried to make myself do it, but I couldn't. It was like standing on the high dive, scared to go off. And you're afraid that when you do go off, you'll be going stomach-first towards something that can cause sharp, inescapable pain. But truthfully, nothing could beat what I'd been through already.

Breathe in.

And out.

In.

I focused hard on him. Edward. He had saved me. In truth, that had to prove _something_. His windswept bronze hair played in the wind, always the most human part of him. His eyes were fixed unwaveringly on mine.

And his eyes were what really calmed the rest of my black nerves. Unwavering. He had faith in me. He loved me. And I knew, in my heart, in my bones, in the roiling of my stomach, that he would help me. Why else would he have stuck around for the nightmares and the crying and the hysteria? Only true love could propel someone to do that. So I had to dig into the love I had for him to help myself.

Breathe in.

Stay calm.

And breathe out.

Stay calm.

Breathe in.

In one swift move, I yanked my left sleeve back, exposing my arm to Edward.

_**End of chapter**_

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AN: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! Reviews are cherished and revered as always, dear readers. Feedback is critical.

By the way, know that I love writing and even though it might take a freaking long time to update, I will.

NEXT CHAPTER: You'll see Bella **and **Edward's side of her telling him and his reaction. Very emotional, very deep, verrrryyyyy long. Those should take less time because I've already written them. Can I get some applause?

Until then!


	3. Chapter 3

**AN**: **I'm so sorry for the wait! I had most of this written about two weeks ago but then I slammed my index finger in the door of my mom's car and it broke. Typing has been a royal pain in my butt, but I did it! Anyway, I'll try to keep up with the schedule of updating but as it stands it's kind of impossible to type at a fast rate. Either way lots of love! Keep reading.**

**OMIGOD. I'm soooooooo so so so so embarrassed. The other version of this chapter was like, the first draft. It wasn't supposed to go up. That was never supposed to be read by anyone! So if you're one of the people who read it, delete it from your memory, please. This one is much better.**

**Sorry again! I know I suck. **

This Chapter: You see both Edward and Bella's side of what passed between them, and then the chapter continues from EPOV.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. The characters, previous story, setting, etc. don't belong to me. They belong to the lovely Stephanie Meyer and whoever else! I just play in their world.

*** Even though there's no explicit content of cutting in this chapter, if you're sensitive to this topic, I suggest not reading.***

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**Chapter Three: The Fall**

**BPOV**

I chose the side of the angel.

It had seemed so easy. So simple. It had seemed like the right thing to do. And in my bland, unassuming mind, I'd thought it was the best choice. That maybe Edward wouldn't be disgusted and angry.

But it was the exact opposite. The angel had quickly shed the white robe and revealed the Devil underneath; and so now I was reaping the consequences, plunged into my own hell. I had that same terrifying feeling of falling off a cliff and knowing there could only be sharp, unforgiving rocks at the bottom that would probably kill me on impact.

The two of us sat, frozen, staring into each other's eyes. His rock-solid gaze was demanding an answer that I did not have. My heart pounded loudly, obviously as I waited for him to say something. Anything.

Inside, I desperately wished for his assurance that he loved me, that we could get through this together. I'd always hated the horrible myriad of scars on my arm but as soon as he'd seen them the hatred intensified tenfold. Because seeing the confusion and then the realization and then the horror in his eyes had made me feel sick to my very core.

I flexed my right hand, feeling my upper arms protest from the pain they were now feeling. But even now, I felt no fear of Edward. I deserved everything I got. I would undoubtedly go to Hell for what I had done and continued to do. But Edward would go to heaven, like he should. It had been foolish of me to think that I could ever be with him, in this life or another.

My lower lip trembled with the coming of tears. I hoped that he couldn't tell.

Without me realizing, Edward was running fast, flying through the forest. I was perched on his back but he was barely holding onto me, not wanting to touch me any more than he had to. I could feel the anger and disapproval radiating from him in waves. They moved through my body, hurting my heart and making my head ache. No. No. I knew what would follow.

My ugly and weak secret had been exposed. I'd pulled back my sleeve and waited with baited breath as his eyes, confused, flickered down. Once he caught sight of what was there, he stopped to form a statue in the way only vampires could. Only his topaz eyes moved, scouring over each individual scar. Each passing second made me feel worse and worse. I felt dirty having the darkest part of me revealed; when it became too much I pulled my sleeve back down.

Then his eyes looked back up. Instead of the sympathy and love I'd been hoping to see, the gold was blazing, and not with any emotion I'd ever expect to see directed at me from him.

When we reached the house, he went straight to the kitchen and shrugged me off of him. I landed with a thump on one of the chairs and immediately curled up, terrified to the point of nausea, watching him whirl around the room like an angry tornado. He was just a blur of white and the blue of his shirt. I kept my eyes following him, because if I let him escape, he would be free to leave and never come back. I had to keep watching him.

I thought crazily for one second about going to lock the door, as though that would have any effect. He could break through the metal lock with his pinky finger. Not only that, but it would put him out of my line of sight. I could barely focus as it was.

He hated me. He was going to leave.

Before I was aware of what was happening, he'd made me a bowl of something and it was sitting on the table before me. Then he turned and braced his hands on the counter, staring out the black window that faced my backyard. I watched his back and noticed with a cold realization that he was still. He refused to breathe—a bad sign.

"Edward," I whispered shakily.

"Don't, Bella," he growled. "Just don't. I need time to think." In the window's reflection, I could see that his beautiful eyes were shut and his jaw was gritted.

I couldn't let that happen. If he had time to think, then no doubt he would see that I was so broken and unworthy that I was a waste of his time. Why he'd come back in the first place was a mystery to me; he had said that he loved me and that it was the worst part of his whole existence to leave me. But if that was true, why was he contemplating it now? Had the ugly truth made him reconsider? Maybe he didn't want to take care of someone so shattered inside. Maybe he didn't want the extra baggage of my worthless life. But whatever the reason, it didn't matter. I could not let him think.

I took a few calming breaths, trying to quell the tightening of my stomach, the burning in my chest, the screaming pain in my heart, the pounding in my head. 'Don't overreact,' I chanted to myself. 'Don't, don't, don't.' But his anger and disappointment only served to remind me that he could leave at any moment.

After a minute or two of us being deadlocked, he snapped, "Eat." I quickly grabbed the spoon and scooped up a mouthful of whatever was in the bowl. It was hot and felt soothing to my raw stomach but did nothing to quell the horror and fear swirling in me.

I had to ruin everything. Everything I touched spoiled.

"Edward, please just listen," I begged. My voice refused to break a loud whisper and my eyes stayed down.

"There's no excuse!" he snarled, still not turning around. I flinched involuntarily. "How could you do this to yourself? Over me?" A low, revolted sound came from his throat.

Didn't he understand that I didn't want to? That it killed me every time I took the blade? That it hurt and made me wish I wasn't alive?

I barely noticed that I was crying. The only thing I could manage to do was keep the sobs in my chest so as to not make him angrier. But it was hard. I kept my mouth clenched shut and eyes glued to the table; my torso heaved painfully in my efforts to stay quiet. To help, I folded one hand over my mouth and sat as still as I could.

Oh no. The hole in my torso was threatening to rip open again. I desperately pressed my ribs together to prevent what was inside spilling out. I quickly realized that it wouldn't matter: everything of mine (body, heart, soul) belonged to him. If he didn't want it, then it was completely useless anyway. My arms fell back to my sides almost serenely; I had dug my own grave and now I had to lay in it. My second chance had been so beautiful; of course I'd ruined it.

I ate in miserable silence. Every spoonful of the food barely made it past the suffocating lump in my throat, so I could only eat a fifth of the small bowl. It was probably for the better: my stomach swirled so much that I feared it would come back up.

Eventually, I dropped the spoon and wiped my soaked face with the back of my hand. It was surprising that he hadn't smelled my tears yet. He was still immobile as stone and his eyes hadn't yet opened. But God, the crying wasn't helping me to stay awake. I was dead tired and emotionally drained, but if I fell asleep then I couldn't make sure that he stayed. I had to stay somewhat strong.

Suddenly, he sighed. My eyes snapped up to lock on his back. I saw his shoulders move through the cotton of his shirt as his arms came back to link behind his head. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I think…" he muttered. "I think I need to take a walk."

The feelings that flooded me in that instant were indescribable. All of my fears, all of the pain, every torture, every instant of crushing loneliness descended on me. I was frozen staring at him, every muscle deadlocked, my mouth open in an "O" of horror. I was even fairly sure my heart stopped beating.

The world fell away.

_Take a walk._

The day that he left me, those words hadn't had any meaning other than he just wanted to walk with me. I'd known that something was wrong, but the phrase hadn't tipped me off that my life, pathetic and worthless though it was, was about to end.

_Take a walk._

After all that had passed, I remembered the implications. I knew what it meant—and I knew what would happen now.

He would leave again. He was leaving me again. He'd sacrificed his own happiness to come back and heal me for a moment—yet he'd found that it wasn't worth it. Edward knew now just exactly how worthless I was. He knew just how much work it would be to heal me and he didn't want to; not that I could blame him.

I was unworthy of his love. I didn't deserve his beauty, his amazing generosity, or his incomparable soul. And, more importantly, I didn't deserve to be a part of his family or to have the life he had. Even as a vampire, I would never, never have been enough. Now he knew. The scars on my arm proved it. My inability to stop him from leaving proved it.

Basic human instinct told me to stay awake. But no matter what, these feelings and the knowledge that he was leaving overpowered my weak humanity. As my vision blurred and my spine sagged, dragging me towards the floor; in my last seconds awake I tried as hard as I could to retain any last essence of him: the color of his skin, the shape of him, his windswept hair.

What I wanted to see most were his eyes. I wanted one last look into that perfect soul to carry me into the nothingness that was coming. But it was to no avail; he stayed with his eyes shut. I wanted it so badly. I wanted so badly for him to stay. No matter what, he wasn't going to. I couldn't stop the whimper that escaped my throat.

I'd tried to find help, but it just did what I'd expected: prove to me that I should have been stronger. I should never have loved someone so much more than I was. I should never have let myself think I could ever be enough for Edward.

My own tear-filled eyes slid shut and my body slid off of the chair. I waited to feel the floor smashing into me, but I was long gone before that. In the darkness that awaited, dread followed me, and not even there did I find escape from the horrifying fear, the consternation, and the revulsion that my life brought.

**EPOV**

My mind raced furiously. How would I help her?

I couldn't fathom the myriad of scars on Bella's arm. I wouldn't think of all the ways I hurt her. But I could do something to heal her. I tried to think it through—and I couldn't do that if I was looking at her. If I looked at her, I would break down and expose my weakness; I would fall to my knees and beg for her to not send me away. I would grovel at her feet if that was what it took.

But this wasn't about me. I had to release the need for myself and do what it took to help her.

That's why I had told her I needed to take a walk. Each passing second with Bella in the same room as me made it harder and harder to focus. I was instants away from literally dropping to the floor and holding her, never letting her go. But if I did that then I couldn't think of a way to help her.

I thought feverishly of all the connections Carlisle had in the medical world. It was possible that we could get the best doctors flown in to aid. The best doctors in the world couldn't take the scars away, but there were things to do if she needed to be rid of her depression.

That thought put a pit in my stomach. Was she depressed? Had I not only broken the heart of the woman I loved, not only damaged her soul, but her mind too?

Suddenly, the tiniest of whimpers came from behind me, shattering my concentration and making me breathe in with shock. The noise was so small, so pained, in just one noise that it made my back stiffen and my heart clench with the pure torture in the noise. I'd never heard Bella make this sound before. It was the sound of pure agony.

The thought of Bella in pain because of me propelled me to turn around and face what I had done. Her beautiful eyes were leaking tears; her usually-pale face was red and stained with salt water; her body was falling towards the floor.

Thankfully, my body was faster than my whirling mind and before she hit the floor, I had her cradled safely in my arms. I immediately pulled her tighter to me, frantically listening for the beautiful sound of her heart.

"Bella?" My voice sounded strange to my own ears, high and panicked. "Bella, honey, please wake up." I was begging her now, brushing the tears away from her cheeks with my lips. I searched for what had caused it. Impossible, crazy ideas ran through my head. Heart attack? No, I decided, listening closer. Her heart was beating just as steadily as it always did. I gently placed my hands on her torso and arms, listening intently, banking on the years of medical school I'd gone through to guide me through my terror. She was alright, just passed out.

She remained very much unconscious, for when I picked her up, not one muscle was responsive. She dangled completely limp from my arms, her head dropping to rest on my shoulder, arms and legs the same way.

I must have done something. Even after being with Bella for so long, I wasn't sure how humans generally acted; my Bella was so different that her reactions couldn't be compared with that of another human. But I was positive that humans didn't just pass out. I took a deep, harsh breath, trying to calm myself down. Her scent burned in my throat but I ignored it.

I carried her to her room, eyes glued to her face, thinking insanely of how to heal her and what had happened. Even in the throes of unconsciousness, her face wasn't relaxed. It still looked like she was in pain. My stomach clenched uncertainly when I placed her on her tiny bed in the corner of the room and she still didn't move; her body lay exactly where I'd put her down.

"Don't worry, Bella," I whispered in a deadly serious promise. "I will make this better." I knelt beside her and stroked her hair, hoping desperately for some way to contact her, soothe her, tell her I loved her.

I had no idea why she'd passed out. I kept trying to think back over what I had done to force a reaction like this. I started with just a few moments ago: _I need to take a walk._ There was no reason there that I saw, so I moved on. The only answer was what had happened in the meadow.

But when I tried to access my memories of the meadow, they seemed to be cloaked in a red haze. I frowned, a little frightened, trying to find a way into my memories. No matter where I tried to look in, I got nothing in return. My eyes slid over to the limp girl on her bed as though she would be the key. What was this?

This had never happened before. But I had to know what happened there—it _had_ to be the catalyst. So, swallowing my horror, I focused on the image burned into my memory in the worst way possible: the image of Bella's pale arm, adorned grotesquely with white, red, and pink scars.

I was sucked in my memory so fast that I couldn't even breathe. I felt like I was drowning in my mind's eye which was focused on the rolling images. It was hard to see the full memory, because I saw it like someone who watched a film of themselves and found it impossible to believe it was them.

_I saw the scars on her arm and froze, knowing what it meant but unwilling to admit it to myself. Hysterically, I tried to think of excuses that deferred the real meaning. Had she gotten her arm stuck in some sort of machine? Had she been attacked by wolves? _

_ No, I knew what it really was. Bella had cut herself, hundreds of times over, making the skin of her under-forearm harsh and painful. I couldn't—wouldn't—realize the meaning behind it. All I could focus on was that she had been letting her precious blood out, hurting herself, almost killing herself, over me._

_ I raised my eyes to hers and could feel the intense anger in them. "How dare you?" I growled in a low voice._

My stomach bottomed out. The memory was disgusting. I knew myself well enough that in that moment, I was sure I should have detected the dangerous anger that was so volatile and frightening to Bella. I wanted to yell at myself to stop, that I was hurting her, but the ugly memory continued, sickening me past any form of reason.

_The tiny spark of hope in her eyes was crushed. In its place I saw one second of confusion. "I… What?"_

_ "How dare you!" I yelled, this time in a loud shout. Bella shuddered back, holding her arm behind her body like she wanted to protect it. But at that time I hadn't seen the deep-set agony in her eyes. I hadn't seen the familiar self-deprecating expression, nor the terror that slowly coalesced. _

_ Her mouth worked furiously like she was looking for a response. Clearly, she hadn't prepared for my reaction. Her pretty eyes were growing brighter with the coming of tears. "Please let me explain, I… I didn't want this to happen—"_

The Bella in my memory matched the broken girl on her bedspread. She had wanted my solace, my comfort, my reassurances that everything would be alright. Not only had she craved them, but she'd needed them, needed them from the most primal place in her.

The memory was almost done.

_The fury was making my mouth taste like copper. It filled my stomach, flowed through my body, making my head spin so that I couldn't focus. I had brought this on my one and only love. I had brought this indescribable hell on her. The anger inside was directed at me, but found another target._

And then I knew why Bella had broken down.

_"Tell me!" I roared. Unable to control myself, I'd grabbed her by the arms, my hands shaking uncontrollably. "Tell me!"_

_ Her eyes opened wider in pain as my fingers dug into her soft arms, no doubt leaving marks. She hadn't answered, too shocked and scared to respond, but her gaze had met mine, defeated, broken._

I found myself pressed back against the opposite wall, breathing hard, palms flat, staring at the love of my life like she was the monster, not me. Horror was swirling in me.

That was impossible. I couldn't have hurt her—I wouldn't believe it. Oh God, oh God. I'd forgotten that she was as fragile as a soap bubble and that I had to be infinitely careful each time I was allowed the luxury of touching her. I doubted that my memory was lying, but there was only one way to find out. Slowly, quietly, fearfully, I walked over to her, placing each foot with solemn care. I leaned down over her limp form and reached for her right arm _very_ carefully, pulling the sleeve back.

I could see prints of my hand marring her pale skin.

When I saw the purple bruises marking her arm, a strangled moan escaped my mouth and my knees gave out. I slid down onto the wooden floor, head pressed into the bedspread. Even with the harsh evidence in front of me, I couldn't believe what I had done. Despite all of my efforts, I had physically harmed Bella, only adding to the previous wounds that I'd given her.

Before my instinctive want to help her hit me, a newfound knowledge barreled into me with the force of Emmett running at full speed when my arm brushed a worn piece of lined paper on her bedside table. Trying to pull myself out of my self-imposed purgatory, unable to understand why I was looking, I unraveled the cream colored paper and stared at it.

My brow furrowed in mystification when I saw her untidy, endearing scrawl across the paper. It was even shakier than it usually was, written in black ink that scrambled all over the lines. I skipped over the print at the top to find my name written slightly more confidently at the bottom. When my eyes focused, my stomach heaved.

"_Don't worry. He loves you. He'll take care of you."_

This was something Bella had written so that she could build up confidence to tell me her secret. She had had complete faith that I would do the right thing in helping instead of losing my easily lost temper.

I saw, with sharp clarity, what I should have done, what she'd desperately hoped I'd do. When she showed me her arm I should have gently pulled her sleeve back down and opened my arms for her. I should have rocked her gently and told her that everything was okay, that we would get through it together. I should have let her tell me everything that had happened in my absence no matter the pain it caused me, and I should have held her while she cried.

But instead I'd selfishly denied her all of those things that she desperately wanted. Not just wanted but needed from the deepest place in her pure, loving heart. I hadn't allowed her to cry all the tears she'd held in for seven months. That was why now they were running down her face even in the holds of sleep.

I desperately, but very, very gently, wiped them from her face. "Don't cry, angel," I murmured softly. "You shouldn't cry because of me. I'm so sorry."

Suddenly, Bella's perfect mouth opened as she fought internally against the nightmare that undoubtedly starred me. "I'm sorry," she whimpered softly.

Fresh horror washed through me, strong as anything. Was she apologizing to me? She couldn't be. After everything, I still underestimated the selflessness that Bella emanated. She refused to punish me for my sins and instead took the brunt of everything on her frail shoulders.

Another memory snapped back into my mind as I stroked her silky hair. Her soft words, "I'm sorry," had been spoken earlier as I'd sprinted back from the meadow. She didn't intend for me to hear it, as she just barely breathed the words, but I heard her say them.

And then I'd basically thrown her off of my back into one of the chairs in my desperate need to think. I remembered the wrenching noise of her hitting the chair from the height I'd been carrying her at.

I yanked my hand away from her and stared wide-eyed. My mouth quivered down. Had I truly treated her so callously? How had I possibly allowed this? Even though it hadn't seriously hurt, there was no way my thoughtless actions could have caused anything but harm.

I stood up, snarling angrily, unable to control my chaotic emotions.

I couldn't keep it together.

The decision was made to see Carlisle before I was conscious that it was made. My father's complete and rational calm would help me be rational. I simply darted out of her door and gratefully gulped in breaths of the fresh, rain-filled air. The fresh scent of the forest allowed my mind to clear out if only a little. Maybe that was what I needed, enough fresh air that by the time I reached the hospital, I was calm enough to portray my perfect human façade.

"Where is my father, Ms. Thomas?" I asked the receptionist politely.

_Such handsome, polite boys, all of them._ The woman smiled at my forced manners and pointed behind her. "Right through there, Edward. He's in his office right now."

I nodded my thanks and was ready to continue on when the words in her mind stopped me. _I wonder about that girl… Isabella? Charlie's kid? He mentioned something about Edward tearing her up… She hasn't looked normal since then, so thin, so tired all the time._

My hands clenched into fists as I tried my hardest to block her out. I still had to walk at a human pace to the door marked 'Dr. Carlisle Cullen.' The newly restored nameplate was different than the previous one. I slammed the door harder than necessary which caused the frame to shake, and the glass with it. My father's eyes snapped up from his papers in surprise, though he had to have heard me coming.

His always-prepared smile was at the ready, but when he saw my manic expression, an unnecessary breath sucked through his teeth.

"Edward, what's wrong?" His voice was full of concern for his son. But he was concerned for the wrong person.

This man was probably one of the reasons that Bella was so hesitant to be afraid of us. Despite our damned existence, nothing but goodness shone from his heart. Even though I ran through this again with a tiny part of my mind, I was much more focused on the problem at hand.

"It's Bella, Carlisle. She didn't come to school so I went to check on her and she was panicking so we went to the meadow and she showed me her arm… I couldn't keep it together and I accidentally hurt her—" The memory of the bruises I'd caused on her arm was still at the forefront of my awareness. Even though I'd just hunted, I was completely unable to control my emotions.

Like always, his serenity was the perfect antidote to my irrationality. His close-to-black eyes fixed me on the spot in a way that calmed rather than made me feel trapped. "I don't understand what happened. Is she injured?"

I gulped a breath of air and said, "She cuts, Carlisle." The horror of the words hit me again in such a way that my stomach heaved and my dead heart clenched. I had brought this upon her.

That moment in time crystallized and I knew the situation was dire if my father was unable to say anything. He simply stayed still, searching my eyes, and the only thought in his mind was, _Oh no._

"She what?" His mind was in shambles at my reveal. "Are you sure?" His hands placed upon the desk like he needed some sort of support. "It can't be."

"Very." I closed my eyes against the visual of her torn-up skin. But no matter if my eyes were open or shut, I saw every one of the wounds I had given to her.

He sat very still. For once, there were no thoughts in his mind. It was blank.

"What do I do to help her?" I asked desperately. "There must be something I can do."

Carlisle sighed and leaned back in his chair with one hand over his face. "Edward, I don't usually deal with cases like this. I don't know if I have many connections who specialize in this part of medicine."

"Please." That was the only word that came to my mind.

"One moment, Edward." Carlisle suddenly thought back to what I'd said, something he had missed. He adopted the stern voice that he used to make Emmett and Jasper stop fighting. "What did you say about hurting her?"

I froze. The red-tinged memory intruded once more upon my sanity and I attempted to rid myself of it by shaking my head rapidly back and forth. Carlisle took that to mean that I was indicating that he was wrong.

"You didn't?" He was growing frustrated with me out of his concern for Bella, though he'd never admit it to me. Good as always, he didn't show it on his face; but I could read the flavor of his mind.

"I did." Admitting it didn't help my sanity. I sank down into the chair opposite his and clenched my hands together.

My father was doing all that he could to stop thinking of Bella in a personal way, as a daughter, and tried to think of her as just another stranger. He feared that his judgment would be clouded otherwise. Always thinking of the right things, unlike me.

After a tension-filled pause, he went into analytical mode. "No matter what you did, Edward, it could have only traumatized her further. Cutting victims can't control themselves. It's often the case that the person does so in an attempt to quell intense pain. However, even while the act can release some of the tension… guilt, shame, and more pain will follow." He had only ever seen two cutting patients in his entire existence and he was thinking back to when he'd done the research on this back in the nineteen hundreds.

I rudely intoned before he was done speaking. "I know, Carlisle, I know, and I think that's exactly what she's feeling. Something was off about her all morning and I think that's why."

He frowned. "Her emotions were especially ramped up this morning? More so than you've ever noticed?"

I nodded.

Carlisle gritted his teeth with a click. "Then, son, I believe that she must have harmed herself again before you got to her house this morning. After the fact, the victim's emotions are unruly and out of control."

I said, "If only Jasper could get a reading on her emotions… Then we could know for sure why." Right as the words were out of my mouth it was obvious that it was a stupid thing to say. My words were just flowing o

Carlisle refused to look up, but he couldn't stop his thoughts. _We do know why she did this._

I swallowed hard. Carlisle knew as well as I that Bella had done this because of the abandonment I'd brought upon her. So it was that obvious. What if Bella woke after the way that I'd acted and she realized it? What if today had been the final straw? What if she took away her love? I felt like I was being strangled to death.

"She has Charlie with her, correct?" asked my father. I hadn't followed his line of thought and was now irritated by the seemingly pointless question.

I shook my head, confused. "No, he's staying somewhere else for the night. Bella told me that earlier. He won't be back until tomorrow."

Carlisle's tone of thought switched to panic. "She is alone? Edward, there's no telling what she'll do if she feels trapped and frenzied."

I caught the implications. If she awoke, by herself and with the marks of my hands on her arm, she could possibly take another blade to her skin.

No.

Our eyes met, horrified.

As though he read my mind, he stood up in a flash. "Get to her, Edward, and make sure nothing happens. I'll be behind you." He was going to get his medical bag to bring to Bella's house. But he still had to move at a human pace, as his bag was in one of the furthest rooms. I didn't have to if I moved quickly enough.

True to my speed, none of the humans saw me blurring past or slipping past the open door back into the cool wind. And on the way, my mind wandered again.

I thought desperately of what my plan was should I get to her house and she was harming herself. Should I just restrain her? That would traumatize her, but at least she couldn't do anything else; or should I soothe her in a proper way and coax the blade out of her hand? Neither option was likely to work if my worst fears were true.

Indeed, my worst fear was that she had had enough of my abuse and would tell me to get out and stay away from her forever. That scenario was more than likely. A monster such as me deserved nothing less than that. But knowing that was no less horrifying.

No. It didn't matter—I had to save her from herself.

But that also had some complications. If she was, in fact, doing the unthinkable act of cutting her arm, her blood would be tempting beyond my wildest dreams and nightmares. I had just hunted but my actions had proven that I was far from in control of myself.

Would the crimson liquid of her blood tempt me to do something I would regret forever?

"No!" I snarled out loud at myself. A bird sitting in a tree I passed screamed in alarm and flew away from me. Was I truly even thinking of letting my control slip? My love for Bella would prevail and I believed that truly, from the bottom of my heart.

And God, did I love her. Even though I could never be enough for her, I loved her so much, so deeply that if I were to lose myself, my love for her would stay. I could only beg to any deity that would listen that she wouldn't deny my adoration. The thought of that almost made me collapse, but instead I used the instinctive fear to propel myself faster.

I didn't think I'd ever run as fast as I did today. It wasn't long before I was back in her house and at her bedroom door. I barely stopped myself before I opened the door. Wait- that door hadn't been shut when I left. Was she awake, or had her father closed the thin piece of wood?

I listened harder and scented the air very slowly, very cautiously. Insane fear wrapped around me as I did so. What if her blood was flowing freely? I clenched my fists and inhaled. Relief. There was no scent of her open blood, just the overwhelming, heady smell of fear. Fear? So intense was I that my ear was basically pressed up against the wall to hear what was happening, though it wasn't really necessary for me to do that. I heard Bella shuffling around, sniffling periodically. My heart seized when I noticed that the air also smelled like tears. I didn't think she was actively crying, but she had been doing so before I arrived.

But thank God, thank God she wasn't hurting herself. At least there was that.

I had to stop this. "Bella?" I asked gently, loud enough for her ears to pick up on the noise. She wouldn't have to cry any more. I would hold her this time, and I would comfort her until her trust was steadfast.

To my shock, instead of sighing in relief or opening the door, she gave a strangled gasp and moved away from the door. Now instead of sniffling, she was hyperventilating. "D-don't come in. Please."

I didn't like the way her voice shook with desperation and terror. Why was she afraid of me? Knowing that she feared me put a pit in my stomach and a knife through my heart. Couldn't she hear the love in my voice? Didn't she understand my undying affection?

"Bella, honey, what's wrong?" I asked tenderly. I was bewildered. I decided to try the knob and found with frustration that it was locked. It didn't occur to me that she would see the knob turning and cry out in fear. My hand jerked off of the metal like it had burned me.

"I'm sorry!" she wailed. Her footsteps moved even further away and they were uncertain. She stubbed her foot on the floor in her attempt to escape.

Escape. A new, terrifying idea came into my head. She was obviously afraid of me. What if, in her sleep-induced hallucination, she actually leaped out of her window? The fall would cause terrible damage to her frail body. I couldn't let this happen to something so pure, so beautiful. Even though she was already scarred, I would make sure that no new harm would come to Bella. She just had to stay calm until Carlisle arrived. My father's complete and centered calm always soothed her nerves just as it did for mine.

I asked, "What are you sorry for?"

She struggled to answer me through her hysteria. In my mind's eye her huge brown eyes were fixed on the door as she backed away. "I'm sorry for what I did and that you had to come back to this, but please don't hurt me, I didn't mean it-"

I swallowed the self-directed anger and tried to stay calm. If I lost my composure then this situation would plunge even further than it already had. "I will never hurt you." As the words escaped my mouth, I remembered what I'd done in the meadow and my head fell against the door. Her pale skin was now marked with black and blue because of my disgusting temper. I'd broken the promise I'd made to her: that I would never hurt her. She'd forgiven me abandoning her to fend for herself; and even though it had led to her hurting herself, she'd forgiven me. This time I was sure that her love didn't go deep enough to find it in her beautiful heart to forgive a monster such as myself.

My own breathing was hitching and pulling now. If I had the ability to cry, I would be doing so right now. "Let me in, Bella, please. I love you. I'll help you through this, I promise."

She didn't answer. I had to take this into my own hands. What would I do?

Oh yes. She used to say that she loved my eyes. When she saw my eyes she would know that she was safe and that my love for her hadn't changed due to what she'd shown me earlier in the day. That would work. It had to. My adoration couldn't be denied; I couldn't hide it if I tried to.

I turned the knob again, but slower, so that she wouldn't be scared.

My attempt was in vain.

She whimpered again and confusingly, the sound of her feet was gone from the floor. I couldn't hear the rustling of her sweatpants dragging across the hardwood anymore. I whipped the door open, feeling like ice.

Her body was airborne. Her feet were ensconced in socks- she'd slipped off of the slippery wood. But now she was falling and for the first time, my limbs were frozen with shock. I wanted to move to catch her but I physically couldn't. The reason was the look on her angelic face.

It took terror and torture to whole new levels. I had never seen anything- human, animal, vampire- look like this. Not even Jane's victims in Volterra could compare to this pain. It was all-encompassing. It was horrible. It had been caused by my negligence.

The look slipped away when the back of her delicate head met the corner of her heavy wooden desk. Her eyes shut. In the absence of the evidence of what I'd done, I could finally force myself to move. She was in my arms in the same second; the soothing warmth of her body was upped a few notches.

I lowered her flat to the floor in case she was hurt. I couldn't breathe. I had to escape the hell I'd caused. My Bella, my sweet Bella, was in horrible harm. Crimson seeped from the wound on her head, pooling on the floor, painted the corner of the desk.

Words tumbled from my mouth in a frenzy. "Bella, please, Bella, wake up." She'd been knocked unconscious. "I'll take care of you, angel, don't worry." My voice sounded high-pitched and strange in my ears. I'd never been this terrified or horrified in my existence.

The blood trickled from her head to her neck and painted the shoulder of her shirt. She was still wearing my shirt.

**AN**: Right, well I hope you liked Edward's point of view. Sorry (again!) for the wait, but for real, try and type a whole chapter without the use of your index finger. It sucks. Anyway, R&R! It would help me out a lot and keep the inspirational juices flowing. (Ew, that sounded gross.)


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